Cat astrophe
by Sue Denham
Summary: Imogen Drill never understood the appeal of keeping a cat
1. Chapter 1

_Just something a little different from me_

* * *

Although she'd never found a way of proving it, Imogen Drill was of the opinion that Cackle's had its very own weather system. Whilst the day's paper seemed to be implying that the rest of the country was enjoying the benefits of an Indian summer, the walls around the castle were being relentlessly battered by high winds and chilling rain. As the evening had drawn in, the rain seemed to lash down harder and the temperature had definitely dropped a few more degrees.

She cast her eyes over the news report again. It was not her imagination; one of the villages not more than five miles away was reporting the warmest temperatures for October in recent years.

Imogen placed the paper down on her desk and shivered, pulling the sleeves of her jumper down further and blowing on her cold hands. When she had first accepted the job at Cackle's, the idea of living in a castle had seemed exciting. She'd fallen in love with the idea of living in a turret room and feeling the sense of history within the thick stone walls. What her mind had conveniently forgotten to tell her was that there would be no central heating, few windows and draughts in the corridors that were so strong you could fly kites on a bad day.

She pulled a face and looked at the way that the candle on the table was flickering; there was a draught coming from somewhere and it was making it nigh on impossible to read.

Her musings were halted by the sound of a scratching noise at her door.

"Come in," she called out, half expecting to see Mildred Hubble push open the door and poke her head around the gap. Although the teacher's quarters were out of bounds to all pupils, Imogen liked to think that her door was always open....figuratively of course.

She waited a few moments but the door didn't move, the scratching however continued unabated.

Finally deciding that the only way to find out what was going on, was to move, Imogen rose to her feet and made her way over to the door. She opened it and stared out into the empty corridor.

"What the…." she stepped back in alarm as, without warning, a sleek black object sped across the threshold and leapt upon the chair she had just vacated.

Her heart still racing, Imogen turned to see a black cat sitting primly on the chair, looking at her with bright yellow eyes, silently demanding to be fed.

"Oh no," she told the cat firmly. "This is not your room." She held the door open wider and motioned for the animal to leave. "I suggest you go back to whoever you belong to."

The cat looked unblinking at her.

"I mean it," Imogen insisted, beginning to feel slightly foolish. "I don't have the time to look after you. You already have an owner and I have a room that doesn't need a cat putting hairs over everything."

The cat simply stared at her for a few more seconds before stretching out and making itself more comfortable.

Imogen growled softly beneath her breath; it wasn't that she didn't like cats; it was just that she didn't want to spend half an hour every morning getting the cat hairs off her clothes. She approached the chair where the cat now lay and eyed it firmly.

"Oy you, off of there."

The cat merely opened a beady yellow eye and glared at her.

Imogen placed her hands on her hips and glared back at the cat. "I mean it."

The cat stretched its claws and dug them into the soft cover of the chair as if sending her a clear message that it wasn't about to go anywhere.

"I refuse to be bullied by a cat." Imogen reached forward, intending to lift the animal from its place on the chair.

Before she realised what was happening, the cat was suddenly transformed from a soft bundle of black fur into a multi-clawed whirlwind of activity. Imogen let out a yelp as a row of razor-sharp claws scratched at her hand and then again at her wrist.

Deciding that retreat was the prudent option, Imogen quickly turned on her heel and ran from the room, slamming the door behind her; moments later hearing a thud as the body of the cat connected with the door.

* * *

"I have a cat in my room," Imogen announced breathlessly to Amelia and Davina as she entered the staff room, hurriedly trying to hide the deep scratches on her hand.

"Oohh at last." Davina clapped her hands together, her knitting dropping into her lap. "I knew you'd finally see sense one day."

"It's not my cat," Imogen told her as she tried to regain her composure.

Davina's hand flew to her chest in horror. "You stole someone's cat?"

Imogen sighed. "I didn't steal the cat; it just appeared in my room."

Amelia raised her head from the letter she had been engrossed in and suddenly gave Imogen her full attention.

"When you say the cat appeared, do you mean 'appeared' in your room, or just appeared in your room?"

Imogen took what she hoped was a steadying breath.

"I mean I opened my door and this cat bolted in and took up residence."

"Ahh." Amelia returned her attention to the letters in front of her, disappointed that it hadn't been a visitation from an actual magical cat. "Well what's so unusual about that?" she grumbled.

"I don't want a cat in my room," Imogen pointed out. "It must belong to someone and I'd quite like that someone to take their cat back."

"What does it look like?" Davina asked in an innocent tone.

"Well it's black and…." Imogen broke off her explanation as she heard sniggering from the other two occupants of the room.

"Sorry, sorry," Davina apologised as she dabbed at her eyes with a hanky. "I couldn't resist."

"Surely someone must own this cat," Imogen pleaded, not really possessing the patience to deal with what passed for witches' humour. "Although from the look of it, I'm not sure that it isn't the cat that owns someone."

Amelia raised her head from her letter again and let out a gentle 'ahh.'

"You know whose cat it is?" Imogen wanted to know.

Amelia pulled a face. "It's a no nonsense cat, am I right? Not into fuss or play?"

Imogen nodded, clenching her hand and trying to ignore the pain from the scratches.

"Ahh." Amelia said again.

"What's with the 'ahh'ing?" Imogen asked and then a nasty thought struck her. "It's Constance's cat, isn't it?"

Amelia nodded slowly. "I very much think that it is. It would appear that Morgana's decided that you can look after her until Constance is back from her jury service."

"But what if I don't want to look after a cat?" Imogen protested, aware that she was beginning to sound petulant.

Amelia held out her hands in an apologetic manner.

"I'm sorry but if Morgana's chosen you as a temporary owner, there's not much you can do about it. She's as determined as her owner."

Imogen groaned and sank onto one of the chairs. "This is all I need." She picked at the loose thread on the arm of the chair. "Just how long do you imagine Constance is going to be away?"

* * *

Later in the evening, Imogen headed back to her own room, her mind trying to imagine what sort of an impact Constance was making during her jury service. She hadn't thought to ask if the case was a magical one or not, and her mind fleetingly imagined the sort of punishment her colleague would demand be meted out if the case was something like theft or arson.

She cautiously opened the door to her room, prepared to pull the door shut again at the first sign of a feline attack. After a few moments of nothing but silence, she pushed open the door to her room and looked longingly at her bed.

There was nothing so appealing at that moment than forty winks. The sight that greeted her however, caused her to halt in her tracks.

She stood with her hands on her hips and scowled at the cat that was now seated in the middle of her bed.

"Off of there this instant," she growled at Morgana. "You've a perfectly serviceable bed of your own. You may have decided that this is your temporary home but you are not going to push me out of my bed."

Morgana flicked an ear and then proceeded to begin washing herself.

"You are not going to get the better of me," Imogen declared firmly. "I've made 3rd years jump into cold rivers and then run for 2 miles across muddy fields. I am not going to let you win this." She pointed at the floor. "Get off the bed and down on the floor where you belong."

Morgana paused in the middle of licking her paws and regarded Imogen in an off-hand manner before continuing with her usual grooming regime.

"I mean it," Imogen told the cat firmly, her foot tapping on the floor with impatience. "I don't care what you think but you are not spending the night there."

Morgana pushed her left forepaw behind her ear and gave it a good clean.

Imogen approached the bed and flexed her fingers, preparing to physically remove the cat.

In response to the action, Morgana rose to her feet and arched her back, her ears flat against her head; her body language making it perfectly clear what she thought of Imogen's idea.

Imogen threw her hands in the air in exasperation and headed back out of the room. She didn't fancy going another three rounds with the cat's sharp claws and so she decided to seek help from someone a little more experienced with the feline temperament.

* * *

"She won't budge," Imogen explained to Davina as she pushed open the door to her room and shoved Davina inside, privately wishing that she'd been able to locate Amelia.

Davina looked down at the black cat that was now curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed, snoring softly.

"Well cats don't tend to move much when they're asleep," Davina nodded, as though imparting some great pearl of wisdom.

"But I don't want her sleeping on my bed," Imogen pointed out, trying to keep a lid on her temper.

"Why ever not?"

"It's a cat," Imogen answered flatly. "Witches' cat or not, to my way of thinking, cats belong in their own baskets. They most certainly do not belong on other people's beds."

Davina's eyes widened.

"Ordinary cats may well belong in little baskets and be prepared to be bossed around by their owners, but witches' cats are independent. They won't stand for being told what to do."

Imogen shook her head.

"At the end of the day it's a cat," she told Davina. "And I, for one, am not prepared to be bossed around by this particular feline."

"Well I'm afraid that I can't help you," Davina told her. "You'll be telling me next that you don't intend on telling her an evening hunting tale."

Imogen let out an exclamation. "I most certainly will not be telling bedtime stories to a cat," she told her colleague firmly. "I just want Morgana out of here."

Davina shrugged her shoulders. "If that cat's made up her mind to sleep here, then there's nothing you can do about it."

"I beg to differ."

Davina smiled as she turned to leave the room. "Don't say that I didn't warn you."

"You're not going to help me?"

Davina shrugged her shoulders. "You appear to have your mind set on a course of action that I don't agree with."

"Davina!" Imogen protested as the elderly witch disappeared off down the corridor. "It's only a cat I was asking you to help me move."

She turned back and her gaze was met by two bright yellow eyes that were now regarding her with what looked like deep suspicion. Imogen shook the thought from her head; it was just a cat at the end of the day. There was no way that it could have understood a word that she'd just said.

She closed the door to her room and folded her arms.

"You are sleeping in your basket," she told the cat firmly. "And that's all there is to be said on the matter."

Moving over to the bed, Imogen grabbed hold of the top blanket and gave it a hefty tug. There was a yowl of protest as Morgana was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor. She turned and hissed at Imogen, who simply glared back at her.

"I've found you a basket and made you up a perfectly serviceable bed," she told the cat firmly; acutely aware that she was backing away from the animal and not really demonstrating a position of dominance. "You are not sleeping on my bed and we are not going to have a debate about the matter."

The cat glared at her again through its narrowed yellow eyes and stalked across the room, leaping back up on the chair and swishing its tail angrily from side to side.

"Fine, throw a hissy fit if you like," Imogen remarked as she picked at the hairs on the blanket. "Just keep out of my way."

* * *

It was with a sense of trepidation that Imogen blew out the final candle and retired to bed.

She had made several journeys across the room, surprised each time that her ankles hadn't been attacked. Perhaps, she reasoned, Morgana had finally understood who was boss.

Imogen pulled up the blankets under her chin and closed her eyes. It had been a long, tiring day and she wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep.

She wasn't sure exactly what it was that caused her to wake in the early hours of the morning. There was just the uncomfortable feeling that she wasn't alone. Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes and jumped in shock as she saw two yellow eyes staring intently at her.

Morgana was sitting only a few inches away from her head and was watching her as though she were some kind of Zoo exhibit.

Imogen let out an inadvertent shriek of surprise.

"Go away," she told the cat, who just blinked at her slowly and continued with its staring.

"If you don't like it, I suggest that you find somewhere else to stay."

Imogen shook her head as she realised that she was having a conversation with a cat. She had never had much patience with adults who treated their cats as though they could understand every word that was said to them. She could excuse children for talking to their pets that way, but to her mind, adults should know better. She narrowed her eyes and rolled onto her side away from the cat, yanking at her bedclothes and smiling to herself as she heard Morgana's paws thump down onto the stone floor as the cat lost purchase on the bed.

Satisfied that she had dislodged the cat, she closed her eyes and tried to make herself comfortable.

A minute later, she opened her eyes again and found that her vision was completely obscured by black fur and two yellow eyes that were only centimetres away from her own.

Imogen groaned and pulled the blankets over her head. She had the feeling that it was going to be a very long night indeed.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Hope no-one minds...I had the urge to add more to this one._**

* * *

Miss Bat looked up from her bowl of nettles and custard as the staff room door opened and a very tired looking Imogen entered the room.

"Bad night?" Davina asked innocently and quickly stuffed another mouthful of nettles into her mouth before she could laugh.

Imogen grunted and made her way over to the urn. She usually restricted her caffeine intake to one mug of coffee a week, but she decided, it was time to make an exception.

"I did warn you," Davina reminded her, through a mouthful of food.

Imogen growled something beneath her breath and took a welcoming mouthful of the rich, black coffee.

"I swear I don't know what that cat's problem is," she muttered. "I mean it's just not normal."

Davina tilted her head to one side. "What did she do?"

Imogen looked faintly embarrassed, and glared down at the table. "That cat stared at me all night."

"All night?"

"All night," Imogen confirmed. "Do cats always do that?"

"Not in my experience," Davina admitted, waving her spoon in the air. "But then, I've never gone to bed without telling one a hunting tale."

Imogen snorted. "For the last time, I am not reading bedtime stories to a cat." She picked up her mug of coffee and took her regular place at the table.

"On your own head be it," Davina muttered and returned her attention to her breakfast.

* * *

Imogen spent the rest of the day mulling over what Davina had said. Was it really necessary to tell stories to a cat? She certainly couldn't imagine Constance doing anything like that; in fact the mere mental image of it seemed preposterous.

She thought about asking the girls what they did to get their cats to leave them alone at night, but somehow the time never seemed right to raise the matter. She could imagine the looks of incredulity on their faces as she asked them the question.

Finally she settled on going to see Amelia. If there was one person in the castle who would answer her question without making her feel foolish, then it was Miss Cackle.

* * *

Amelia dabbed at the tears flowing from her eyes as she struggled to contain her laughter.

"I'm sorry Imogen," she apologised trying to get her composure back. "I don't think in all my time of teaching that I've heard of anyone with a problem like yours."

Imogen sank down lower in her seat. It appeared that even Mildred Hubble had managed to cope with things where she had failed.

"It's not funny," she protested, ignoring the snort of laughter that Amelia let out.

Amelia waved a handkerchief in her direction.

"Really Imogen I am sorry."

"Hmmm," Imogen replied sulkily. "Are you sure that you haven't heard anything about Constance's jury service?"

Amelia forced the smile from her face.

"No, I'm sorry to say that there's no news. It could be days or even weeks until Constance is back with us."

Imogen scowled, well aware that this sort of news wasn't something that she'd usually consider to be bad. Constance Hardbroom had never exactly made her feel welcome within the school. There were days when she felt as though she was being tolerated, but they were far out-numbered by the days when she felt as though she were little more than an offensive smell beneath the formidable witch's nose.

"Can't we tell the court that Constance has some sort of family emergency?" she asked plaintively.

"I don't think Constance would be amused to be called home because you don't want her cat sleeping in your room," Amelia pointed out.

Imogen had to confess that Miss Cackle had a point. It would hardly endear her to Constance to tell her that she couldn't stand Morgana.

"Why don't you or Miss Bat have a cat?" she asked the question as she picked at the black hairs that seemed to have become attached to her tracksuit top.

Amelia coughed and tried to look busy.

"I just don't have the time," she answered finally. "And Miss Bat…well it's best that you don't ask….unless you want to be feeding her spaghetti through the lock of the stationary cupboard door again."

Imogen frowned but decided not to pursue the matter further.

"Can you think of any way that I can get Morgana to leave me alone at night and not stare at me?" she asked.

Amelia tilted her head to one side and considered the matter for a moment.

"Have you tried a night-time hunting tale?"

"Not you as well!" Imogen exclaimed.

"Well cats are rather partial to a good story," Amelia confided.

Imogen shook her head, refusing to listen any further. She might not be a witch, she might not have the ability to swoop around the castle turrets on a rickety old broom, but that did not mean that she was going to fall for every practical joke…not this term anyway.

She smiled politely at Amelia and left the matter there.

* * *

Imogen opened her eyes and found two yellow eyes only inches from her own. They were staring unblinking at her. She tried to suppress the shriek of alarm and inched away from the cat, wishing that her heart wasn't pounding quite so hard in her chest. She glanced at the time on her alarm clock and let out a heavy sigh. The bright LED display told her, in a manner that she felt was far too jolly, that it was a little after two in the morning.

"You are not going to win," she hissed under her breath and turned away from the cat, determined not to let it get to her.

She heard the cat kneading its claws into the blankets and swore that she could feel its eyes burning into the back of her neck. She was not going to be beaten by it however…she was going to win.

* * *

"Are you alright Miss?" Mildred asked in a concerned tone, taking in the dark circles that had formed beneath the eyes of her teacher.

"I'm fine thank you Mildred," Imogen lied through her teeth, blearily trying to focus on the things around her.

"You do look awfully tired," Maud told her, slightly worried by the way that her teacher's eyes seemed to be puffing up.

"Yes, thank you Maud." Imogen tried her best to keep her patience as she made her way along the corridor towards breakfast, picking irritably at the short black hairs that now seemed to cover her sleeve.

"Have you tried telling the cat a hunting tale?" Mildred asked innocently.

"What!" Imogen stopped dead in the corridor and turned to glare at the girls, her hands on her hips.

"Sorry Miss," Mildred apologised. "It's just that we heard you were looking after Morgana."

Imogen narrowed her eyes. "And pray tell, just where did you hear that particular piece of news?"

Mildred exchanged a glance with Maud before answering. "I asked after Morgana this morning and Miss Bat told us that you were looking after her."

"I never thought of you as a cat person," Maud admitted.

"I'm not," Imogen confessed, her shoulders drooping. "And if I'm honest I don't know what to do to get the damned thing to stop staring at me."

"A good old-fashioned hunting tale will do the trick," Maud told her nodding furiously. "It always works for me. One tale and then nothing but a snoring cat for company." She looked at the concerned expression on Miss Drill's face. "The snoring can become quite relaxing after a while," she tried to reassure her.

"How come I've never heard of this before?" Imogen demanded to know.

The two young witches exchanged glances.

Imogen recognised the expressions on their faces and waved away her question.

"Never mind," she told them quietly. "Never mind."

* * *

"She pushed her nose through the long grass and felt the way that the dew tickled upon her soft fur," Imogen broke off from the story, feeling more than a little foolish about lying in bed and making up stories for a cat that wasn't even hers.

Strangely though, it seemed to be having the desired effect. Although Morgana's tale was still twitching, her ears were firmly pricked forward and the speed of the flicking tail seemed to increase and decrease in response to the content of the story. Imogen wasn't really sure that she was telling the right sort of story, but after the looks she had received from staff and pupils alike in the past few days, there was no way that she was going to confess that she didn't know what a hunting tale was.

An impatient mew from Morgana drew her attention back to the present and she picked up on the tale again.

* * *

"Did it work then Miss?" Maud asked as she caught sight of Miss Drill jogging through the corridors the next morning.

"Morning Maud, Mildred," Imogen greeted the two girls with a broad smile on her face. "I had a fantastic night's sleep last night. In fact, I feel so invigorated this morning that I think we should head out into the woods today and go for a really long run."

She failed to notice the look that passed between the two girls as she continued on her way, small clumps of black fur cascading to the floor as she jogged past.

"Oh well done," Mildred grumbled and kicked out petulantly at a loose pebble.

"Well how was I to know that she'd turn out to be a natural?" Maud protested as her shoulders slouched at the thought of a longer run than normal.

"Almost makes you wish that HB was back," Mildred added. She paused and then grinned at Maud. "Just kidding!"

The two girls laughed and then continued on their way.

* * *

It was early evening and Amelia's eyes were closed as she drifted pleasantly through a world where the moon really was made of cheese, and she'd just been appointed as the first witch to attempt a landing. She was rudely dragged out of the dream by Imogen, as the young teacher burst into her office, her hair skewed at all angles, a look of wild desperation on her face.

"Amelia….I don't understand it…my room… it's full of cats…They're everywhere….everywhere. I think I have more cats in my room than we have girls in the school! Where have they all come from…and more importantly, why are they ganging up on me?"

Amelia looked at Imogen calmly over the top of her glasses.

"This story that you told Morgana…" she began slowly. "It wasn't an… adventure story…was it?"

Imogen sank into a chair and leant forward, resting her head on the table.

"What does it matter," Imogen cried. "Just make them go away, please make them go away."

"I think some people are just not cut out to be cat owners," Amelia remarked soothingly. "One thing you should never do is tell an adventure story to a cat…word gets around you know, and then before you know where you are…they all want to hear it."

Imogen let out a whimper of despair and banged her head on the table.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered.

Amelia glanced at the clock on the wall, wondering if it was too late to try and make contact with Constance.

Imogen let out a small sob. "What am I going to do about it?"

Amelia smiled helplessly. "You could always sleep in another room."

Imogen raised her head, a hopeful expression on her face. "And will that help?"

"Well yes…until they find you."

Imogen wailed again and let her head sink back down.

"I'm a dog person really," she wept.

"Yes dear," Amelia told her quietly. "I'd worked that one out for myself."


	3. Chapter 3

_**I'll admit I'm a little late updating this one...I came across it last night and it just seemed to demand another chapter. Not been in the Worst Witch neighbourhood for a long time, but it looks as though the old place is ticking over very nicely.**_

* * *

Imogen awoke early the next morning. She was immediately disorientated. Nothing looked quite the way that it should. Her bed was decidedly uncomfortable and she wasn't completely convinced that there was any padding in the thin mattress she was lying on.

Reality came flooding back in as she looked around at the bare walls of the small room. She was in one of the girls rooms. It had previously been home to Hetty Bracken but the girl had left part way through the term when she'd fallen whilst attempting to complete the broomstick flying test. Miss Cackle had protested but Miss Hardbroom had been firm. The girl had failed the test seven times, breaking several brooms and windows in the process, and even Imogen had to admit that Mildred Hubble's cat looked more at home on a broom than Hetty ever had.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up, looking around cautiously, trying to see if any cats had managed to get into the room. There was no way that they could, she reminded herself, but still found herself peering under the bed just to be sure.

She'd been offered the use of Constance's room, but had immediately passed on the offer. She'd only had cause to step into the room of the potions teacher on two previous occasions and both times had felt decidedly uncomfortable. There had been the tangible feeling of magic in the air, and Imogen wasn't entirely certain that the room would accept her presence.

Miss Cackle had muttered something beneath her breath and had then come up with the option of using one of the pupil's rooms. She'd impressed on Imogen that it was highly irregular; that it didn't do for the pupils to see the staff in night attire and Imogen had had to bite her tongue, recalling the last time that Davina Bat had had an old school friend over for company. The two witches had over-indulged in sherry and it had taken Miss Hardbroom and a serious amount of magic to get the two of them safely down from the top of one of the turrets where Miss Bat had been singing a particularly edgy song about Egbert Hellibore and what she thought he did when he wasn't teaching. Musically the song had been impressive, but Imogen wasn't certain that the Grand Wizard would be impressed if word of its contents were ever to reach him.

She pushed the thought from her mind and threw back the covers, shivering as the cold biting air wrapped itself around her. She pulled a dressing gown around her shoulders and made her way over to the small window, half scared to peer out in case the courtyard turned out to be full of cats. The last thing she wanted was to be thought of as some sort of cat kidnapper.

She turned her head as she heard a tap at her door.

"Hello!" she called out, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice. Last time she'd answered a knock at the door it had turned out to be Morgana.

"Are you in there?" Davina called out.

Imogen rolled her eyes and made her way towards the door. "Are you on your own?"

"Yes." There was a pause and then a louder question. "Are **you** on your own?"

Davina's voice was rather too loud for Imogen's liking and she hastened to open the door, ushering the older witch in. She didn't need idle gossip about her private life on top of her already growing reputation as a procurer of cats.

"What is it?"

Davina looked around at the bare walls and shivered. "You really should do something to brighten the place up a bit."

"This isn't my room Davina."

"Really?" Davina looked around. "Well what are you doing in here? Should I be in here? Should anyone be in here? Should I go?"

Imogen shook her head, refusing to be dragged into a debate with the befuddled witch. "You came to see me for a reason?" she prompted.

"Did I….Oh yes, yes I did. Miss Cackle would like to know if you're intending to return all the cats to their owners?"

"I'd very much like it if they went back where they belonged." She shrugged her shoulders. "But seeing as I don't know what I did in the first place to attract them, I don't really know how to go about getting rid of them."

Davina stiffened. "One doesn't get rid of cats. One asks them politely to leave." She tutted. "You really do have a lot to learn about cats."

Imogen sighed and buried her head in her hands. "They're impossible," she muttered feeling the itch as an errant cat hair tickled her nose. "And they moult everywhere!"

* * *

Imogen was grateful when the morning was finally over. She'd had to pick up and hand back all the cats to their owners. Some of the girls had not reacted well to the loss of their cats and rather snatched at their feline companions when she'd offered them out.

There had been howls of protests from the cats and the noise had set Imogen's teeth on edge. Amelia had been a great help though, talking softly to all the cats and explaining that they had their own humans to look after. Imogen had watched the way that tails had swished and she was certain that she'd seen more than one sulky look pass across a cats face.

There were still six cats that had no known owner, and Amelia had sent Enid Nighshade to Cosie's cafe with a poster and a promise of a share in a cheesecake if she could persuade Mrs Cosie to display the poster advertising the location of the missing cats somewhere prominent. The one thing the school didn't need was bad publicity, and gaining a reputation for cat thievery was most certainly not a good thing.

Imogen sat down dejectedly at the table in the staff room and idly picked the cat hair off of the rim of her glass of orange juice. Mrs Tapioca had been decidedly off with her after breakfast and seemed to take the loss of her own cat as a personal affront. She'd tried explaining that she'd not meant any harm but the cook was not in the mood to listen. She'd muttered something under her breath and stalked off back to the kitchen with her cat under her arm.

"How are you faring?" Amelia asked as she entered the room. There was the jingle of a small bell and a ginger tabby dashed in through the open doorway and jumped up on the table, settling itself down directly in front of Imogen, staring at her intently.

Imogen let her head drop down onto the table. "Make it stop," she implored as the cat mewed at her.

Amelia swiftly shut the door before another cat could enter the room. "This is getting out of hand," she remarked.

"You don't need to tell me," Imogen replied balefully as the ginger cat nudged her with its head.

"What on earth was in that story you told Morgana?"

Imogen shrugged her shoulders. "I don't remember," she muttered, still not raising her head from the table top.

"Well it must have been something pretty special." Amelia lifted the protesting cat from the table and carried it over to the window. She took a pace back as she took in the two cats that were perched on the windowsill, staring in from outside. She turned on her heel and headed back to the door.

"No one said anything about adventure stories being bad," Imogen wailed.

Amelia looked at her with a less than patient expression. "I doubt anyone thought that that would need explaining." She opened the staff room door a crack and glanced out into the corridor, putting one foot in the way of the black cat that was waiting patiently at the doorway. She deposited the ginger cat in the hallway and then swiftly closed the door.

"You appear to have a future as some sort of cat whisperer," she remarked as she brushed the cat hair from her clothes.

"I just want to be a gym teacher," Imogen protested. "I don't want anything to do with cats."

Amelia raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She picked up the local paper and quickly scanned through it. She had precious little time for the affairs of the non-witch community but she wanted to just check that Constance hadn't ruffled any feathers. Satisfied that there were no reports on missing defendants or articles panicking about the number of toads suddenly appearing in the witness box, she returned her attention to Imogen's predicament. "I need you to think carefully about what you said to Morgana."

"I don't remember," Imogen's voice was still muffled.

"You need to remember; they won't leave you alone until you finish it."

Imogen finally lifted her head from the table and pushed her hands through her hair. "Are you saying that I'm going to be hounded…" she tailed off as Amelia raised a hand. "What is it?"

"They're cats," Amelia reminded her pointedly. "Cats do not hound…hounds hound…cats… well….cats hunt."

Imogen let out a sound that was part sob, part laugh. "This is impossible."

"I'll admit that it is a little on the tricky side."

For the first time Imogen looked at the stationary cupboard where Davina was known to hide when the world got too much for her and understood the attraction.

"I can't spend the rest of my life being hunted down by cats."

Amelia nodded in agreement. "It is already proving more than slightly inconvenient to have so many about the place."

"That wasn't what I meant."

"I need you to try and remember the story. How did it end?"

"It didn't."

"What!" there was genuine alarm in Amelia's voice.

"That's a problem?" Imogen's hope died a little more.

"You can't leave them wanting more. That story will be circulated throughout the entire cat community and they'll all want to know how it ends." She shook her head at Imogen's carelessness. "How would you like it?" she demanded to know, an edge to her voice. "Imagine following a story and then never getting to hear the end of it."

Imogen stared down at the wooden surface of the table and traced a small circle with her finger. "I don't suppose I'd like it much," she admitted, feeling very guilty.

"The first thing we need to do is work out what was in the story and then we need to work out an ending for it. That **might** help solve the problem." She shook her head. "Telling an adventure story to a cat," she muttered. "Do they teach you nothing in teacher training school these days."

Imogen didn't get the chance to reply as there was a loud crash from outside in the hallway. Moments later the door was flung open and Davina dashed in, her eyes wide, her expression one of fear. "It's all getting rather out of hand," she told them breathlessly.

Imogen looked beyond Davina and saw the number of cats that were gathering in the corridor. The chanting teacher struggled to close the door and then turned to face them both. "I think we're going to need a bigger cat basket!"

* * *

_**The mention of an unfinished story is solely aimed at me and my 3 year gap in updating I hasten to add; it's certainly not intended as a dig at anyone else. We all have unfinished stories somewhere in the world **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Apologies again for the rather haphazard posting of this story. It started as a one-shot, but every time I come back to watching the series, I can't help but want to write another chapter. I'm having so much fun with it. It's silly and I hope that at least a few of you will enjoy it :) (Psssst, if you do, could you let me know.)**_

* * *

"There are cats out there!" Davina's eyes were wide. "Cats, cats, cats. Everywhere...on everything...in everything...just looking at me...waiting to pounce." She made a dart for the stationary cupboard and but pulled up short. "I bet there's a cat in there..cat in a cupboard, cat in a cupboard, it's entirely possible."

"Do try and pull yourself together," Amelia placed her hands on the arms of the panicking chanting teacher. "This is a little crisis, but one that I'm sure we can sort out ourselves."

Imogen straightened. "Who said it was a crisis?"

"But there are cats everywhere and there just won't be enough cardboard boxes to go around!" Davina was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, desperate to seek sanctuary in the relative safety of the stationary cupboard. "There's only one thing for it. We need to contact Constance."

Amelia took a pace back at Davina's words. She would have been less surprised if the chanting teacher had suggested that they try and contact Hecketty Broomhead. There was little love lost between the two teachers, and for Davina to be suggesting that Constance needed to be involved indicated just how serious she thought things were.

"As I've previously tried to explain to Imogen we can't just call Constance back from jury duty."

"Why not? You know for a fact that she's going to be making people's lives a misery, and they'll be as glad to see the back of her as we'll be relieved to see her back."

Amelia was more than a little offended at the implication. "Are you suggesting that I'm incapable of controlling this crisis?"

"Who said it was a crisis?" Imogen wanted to know; hysteria creeping into the edge of her voice. "I was going for incident, or event as a description. I wasn't even in the same room as crisis!"

"I want an answer," Amelia persisted, ignoring Imogen's interruption and glaring at Davina. "Do you or do you not think that I can cope in a crisis such as this?"

"Can we please stop calling it a crisis!"

"I just thought that Constance would be able to deal with the matter of the cats without... getting emotionally invested in the issue," Davina attempted to explain her way out of the situation.

"See...matter...issue," Imogen clung to the words. "If the woman who runs to the stationary cupboard at the first creak of a floorboard doesn't think that it's a crisis, can we all please stop using that word?"

"Emotionally invested?"

"You've not been the same since...well... you know." Davina tailed off and Amelia's face fell as she realised what Miss Bat was referring to.

"That was all a very long time ago," she sniffed. "And Boris was a wonderful companion."

"Well I just thought it best that you not be surrounded by all...this. Thought it might bring back a few bad memories."

Amelia sniffed, and dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief that appeared from nowhere. "Perhaps you are right," she admitted. "Perhaps Constance is best suited to the task at hand."

"I don't know what you think that Constance can do that I can't," Imogen tried not to feel too offended at the way that her presence was being casually dismissed. "From what you've said this is my crisis... I mean problem, and therefore it's up to me to fix it." She frowned as she took in the expression on the faces of her colleagues. "Well….what is it?"

"If it were a leaky tap, or a damaged table leg then we might be a little more confident," Amelia admitted. "This is altogether different. This is complex, this is out of the ordinary...this is potentially..."

"Magical." Imogen finished the sentence for her. "There are times when I hate being the only non-magical person here."

"Aside from Mr Blossom...and..."

"Yes, yes, yes," Imogen growled; feeling as though her point were being lost. "Aside from all those other people within the school who also happen to be without magic. It just comes to something when I feel as though you'd sooner defer to Morgana in matters magical than you would me!"

"Well she does have more experience..."

"And four legs, a tail and a well fitting fur coat!" Imogen pointed out huffily. "Are you seriously telling me that you **would **consult with that cat before me?"

She looked at the way that both witches were now staring down at their shoes and let out a snort of outrage. "You've already spoken to her, haven't you? You've already spoken to that cat rather than talk to me?"

Amelia raised her head and smiled sympathetically at Imogen. "To be fair my dear, you weren't exactly coping well with the situation."

"Well at least you've stopped calling it a crisis," Imogen muttered, picking at the cat hair on her tracksuit top and trying hard not to feel insulted. "Don't mind me; it's not as though I mind playing second fiddle to a cat!"

Davina tapped her on the arm. "Cats can't play the fiddle...it's an opposable thumb thing. They don't like to talk about it."

Imogen glared at her, and in that moment understood why Constance seemed to wear an expression of almost permanent annoyance.

* * *

The story of the cat infestation spread through the castle like wildfire, and the corridors were buzzing with the news of how Miss Drill had become some sort of super cat whisperer.

When the news passed along the draughty corridor where Mildred and Maud had their rooms, it was taken on board with a degree of suspicion and it was Maud who was the first to raise the issue that had hung unspoken in the air.

"I didn't think Miss Drill even liked cats," she remarked to Mildred as she perched on the end of her friend's bed.

Mildred yawned and then placed her hands over the ears of Tabby, who was sitting between them purring furiously. "Something's definitely not right," she agreed. "I'm just glad that Tabby's not affected."

Maud frowned, more than a little put out that her own cat, Midnight, had once again disappeared. She looked at Tabby, who simply looked unblinkingly back at her.

"Maybe it's something that only affects proper witches' cats." She raised a hand as she saw Mildred straighten up. "Not that Tabby isn't a brilliant cat; he's just got a different background to the others."

Mildred was partially appeased by Maud's words but still pulled Tabby onto her lap and made an extra special fuss of him.

"Perhaps we should check in with Mrs Tapioca and see if Piero is still with her."

Mildred's face fell. "She doesn't like us going down to the kitchens any more...not after that incident with the sea of porridge."

"You did tell her that it was an accident," Maud reminded her, seeing the glum expression on Mildred's face.

Mildred tickled Tabby behind his ears. "It doesn't seem to do much good. I still see her looking for the exit whenever I go down there. It's like she expects me to cause a disaster just by walking into the room."

Maud tried and failed to suppress a smile. "You do have something of a reputation."

"Well it's not fair." She broke off. "Hang on...if there are as many cats downstairs as Fenny and Gris said, then this isn't simply a witch cat thing...there aren't **that **many witches' cats within the school." She looked at Tabby with a new appreciation. "He must be immune to whatever it was in that story that Miss Drill told them. He must be some sort of exceptional cat."

Maud looked at the way that Tabby was now head butting Mildred's leg and tried to share her friend's belief but without much success.

"I should take him to her straight away...use him as a sort of control. She can tell the story to all the cats and we can see when it has an affect on the others."

Maud was still less than convinced. "I get the feeling that Miss Drill has seen enough cats today to last her a lifetime. Perhaps we should wait for HB to get back and sort things out."

"She could be gone ages," Mildred pointed out.

"HB on a jury...Can you imagine anyone else daring to argue with her? The case will be over and she'll be back here before you can say 'off with his head'!"

"True. Never thought that I'd miss having her around the place."

Mildred lifted Tabby up into her arms and looked him squarely in the face. "You could be the answer to all our problems," she told him firmly, and was rewarded with a lick on her nose.

* * *

"First things first," Amelia attempted to bring some sort of order to the chaos of the staffroom. "We need to get all these cats back to their owners...again."

Imogen's shoulders sank. "Isn't that a little...pointless. They'll just come straight back again. It's what they did last time."

"We have to do something," Davina sided with the headmistress. "Don't want the school to get a reputation for cat-napping."

Imogen sighed. "I don't think you can call it that," she attempted to explain but Davina cut her short.

"What else do you suggest we call it? I can see there being a lot of very disgruntled owners in the village."

"Not to mention a very disgruntled Mr Blossom when he sees the number of fur balls in the hallway," Miss Cackle added. "Perhaps you are right Imogen... and it was partly the reason I was debating whether or not to try and get word to Constance. You appear to be at the centre of everything that is going on here, and I was thinking that perhaps it might be prudent if you were to be...not to put to fine a point on it... elsewhere."

"You're kicking me out?"

"Have you any idea of the potential cost in cat litter if things carry on the way they are?"

"How do you propose to get me out of here? Certainly not by the front door...I don't think I'd be able to get more than a few paces down that corridor before they swarmed all over me." Imogen broke off and waved her arms around for a moment before letting out a loud sneeze. "And before you suggest it, you are not getting me on the back of a broom...not for any money, not for any emergency." She paused and then sneezed again. "This better not be what I think it is..."

"A cold?" Miss Bat suggested, earning herself a glare from Imogen.

"I wasn't thinking of anything so impossible," Amelia tried to calm the rapidly panicking gym teacher. "I was thinking more along the lines of a containment field. Something to keep you off the radar of a bunch of highly sensitive twitching noses. That's why I was thinking of Constance. This sort of thing is much more her field of interest than mine." She quickly added, not wanting anyone to think that she was deferring to her deputy. "She could...to all intents and purposes... make you disappear."

Imogen frowned. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." In truth anything that involved Constance Hardbroom casting a spell on her was high on Imogen's list of experiences she'd rather not try. It wasn't that she didn't trust the stern looking potions teacher it was...well...it was that she didn't entirely trust the stern looking potions teacher. Constance had made no secret of her opinions on physical education, and Imogen couldn't be one hundred percent certain that Constance wouldn't use the opportunity to get her away from the school...permanently... and then claim it was all nothing more than an unfortunate accident. She pulled herself up to her full height. "I'm going to have to deal with this myself...I wrote myself into this corner, and I'm going to have to be the one to write myself out of it." She pushed up her sleeves, and promptly sneezed as cat hair cascaded to the floor. "If those cats want an adventure story, then by George I'm going to tell them one."

Davina tugged urgently on Amelia's arm. "Could you try and contact Constance...please...for all our sakes!"


End file.
